Something Like Fortune Cookies and Hey Jude
by 21kittyluver
Summary: When Cas decides to bring up the issue of Dean's need for new clothing, a part of Dean is expressed through the coaxing of The Beatles and take out food. This is my first FanFiction in a while, so sorry about any mess ups, mistakes, or overall misinterpretations of the character's actions. All rights to Dean and Castiel reserved to the show Supernatural


"You do realize its cold out right?"

Dean looked over his shoulder at Cas, arms sliding into the sleeves of his favorite jacket. He flashed him a hundred watt smile and replied, "You don't say."

Cas rolled his eyes and walked towards the kitchen, hands full of boxes. They loomed over his head until he set them down on the counter, just barely missing the cupboards.

"I just hope you get some warmer clothing before Winter, that's all," Cas added, alluding towards the real purpose of commenting on his jacket; Dean needed new clothes. Earlier that day he'd been leafing through their closet, looking for a textbook he'd acquired recently on ancient Greece. As he'd been looking, his fingers caught the material of Dean's shirts, realizing how truly thin the cloth had become. Too many washes and too many wearings had worn it down to string thick.

"I think I'll live with what I have, Cas," Dean reassured, keys clicking softly in his pocket. Cas shook his head but silently stewed, picking up the phone to order take out. The man on the other side of the line was clippy and impatient, and when Cas hung up his face felt flushed.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. He removed his black leather gloves and walked towards Cas, leaning against the counter.

"Just some guy at the chinese place downtown. He was being rude."

Dean saw the splotches of red up and down Cas's neck and gently pulled the phone away from Cas. His eyes glittered thankfully as he returned Dean's embrace, grateful for his empathy. He'd never been good at talking to other people, his shyness like a cape wrapped around his body, caught in the wind. Talking to people was worse, especially when they were short with him.

Dean's arms slid back but kept a firm grip on Cas's forearms. He looked into his eyes and said, "He's being the ass, don't let it get to you."

Cas shook his head and looked down.

"Its not just that, Dean," he started, voice low. "I've been wanting to tell you about getting warmer clothes for days now and I just couldn't."

Dean frowned.

"What's wrong with my clothes?" His voice wasn't hurt or angry, just confused. Cas's anxiety began to clear.

"Its going to start snowing soon and then your gonna have to be out in the cold, with nothing but a thin jacket and an even thinner shirt. You don't even own a hat, or gloves. What if you got stuck outside at Bobby's and couldn't reach me?"

"Cas," Dean cut him off, smiling crookedly. His hands reached for his face and Cas allowed him to touch his cheeks, fingers skimming past his smooth jaw and stretching far into his hairline. Cas absently leaned into his touch. "I'm not going to get stuck outside of Bobby's. And if I did I'd just wait in my car."

"That's not the point," Cas huffed, looking sideways.

"Then what is?" Dean asked back, voice shifting into irritation.

"Your clothes, Dean. They're so thin you might as well not wear anything at all."

"You would sure like that."

Cas blushed and rolled his eyes, sliding back from Dean's hands and walking towards his record player. The Beatles, Hey Jude, had been playing, but Cas could feel Dean's eyes prickling his skin and wanted something to do, even if that meant changing the song.

"Wait," Dean blurted, walking towards the record player. He looked at the spinning black whir of the disk and behind his eyes Cas could see something there.

"What is it?"

Dean's lips quirked at the edges and Cas's heart caught. Despite the fact that Dean could be so ignorant and stubborn, whenever he saw his eyes go soft like that, he wanted to trap himself in the depths of everything Dean really was. To get lost in the maze of his eyes and forget their indecisions. Like the fact that Dean wouldn't buy any replacement clothes despite the fact that they had enough money to spare.

"My mom, she used to sing this song to me when I was a just a kid." Cas was suddenly struck with the sentamentality in Dean's expression, a memory etched beneath each line in his brow. He wanted to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows but refrained from touching him, scared he'd withdraw. "Ya know, most moms sing lullabies or Twinkle Twinkle, but not her. Instead she sang me a Beatles tune."

Something shone in Dean's eyes. Cas traced his chin with his thumb and coaxed Dean to turn his head to him. He looked at Cas and leaned forward, lips tracing his lovers, and they began to kiss. Cas tipped his head against the onslaught of desire and felt Dean's tongue prod forward, sliding through his lips and into his mouth, smooth and hot. Hands caught at each other's arms and held them there, Cas's sliding up Dean's muscular stature to hold his face. When they slid back Cas's hands forced Dean to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm being so antsy. And I'm sorry about your mom. And I'm sorry I can't talk to the takeout guy down the street. I'm sorry, Dean."

The crease between Dean's brow deepened and he shook his head, grinning lightly. Cas couldn't help but think that when Dean smiled like that, it was like the skim of white against a blue sky. He leaned forward again and rested his head on Dean's collarbone.

"Don't be sorry," Dean whispered, tracing the nape of Cas's neck and sliding his fingers to the top of his spine, the pad of his thumb roving over the first nub of bone. Cas felt a wave of heat rush through him. He loved it when Dean touched his spine.

"I am," Cas whispered, hands reaching inside Dean's jacket and holding his waist.

"I don't buy new clothing because when we were younger, my dad used to leave us for days on end. I'd give Sam all my good clothes, even though the kid was a twig. In the winter we'd have to wear all our good stuff at once just to keep warm. It was tough. I guess I've just gotten so used to wearing my old clothes that getting new ones would be like betraying an old habit."

Cas listened to him the entire time and when he was done he nodded, gaze full of understanding. With gratifying kindness he rose the front of his shirt, revealing Dean's abdomen. Dean watched as Cas bundled up the hem of the shirt into a fist and looked into his eyes, ocean blue and wading with love.

"Old habits die hard," he whispered, and pulled Dean forward, kissing him hard. Dean leviated towards him and breathed in through his nose, devoured entirely by the mere closeness of Cas. Once Dean's jacket was off Cas could truly feel the curvature of each muscle, the smoothness of his body and chiseled frame of his chest. Dean pulled back and began to make open mouthed kisses down his neck. Cas quietly gasped for air.

"I hope this becomes an old habit," Dean mumbled between kisses, reaching Cas's collarbone and taking the skin over his clavix between his teeth, reddening the area around it. Cas's hands clung to Dean's back, dragging his shirt down so much it began to tighten against the front of his throat. Dean chuckled deeply and backed away, tossing the shirt off and resuming his place at Cas's chest. Cas's nails dug into Dean's back and Dean groaned, feeling himself radiate passion.

Without thinking Cas's hands roamed over Dean's back, trembling as he caressed each muscle, tendon, dimple, stretching out the map of Dean's skin and memorizing it. He wanted to implant the route of Dean's spine into his thoughts for everyday ponderings, like being curious about the invention of the microwave.

As he thought this Dean had slid his hands under Cas's shirt, untucking the wrinkled sweater and watching it fall mid thigh. He laughed.

"Jesus Cas, if I need warmer clothes you need clothes that fit you better."

Cas shook his head.

"Ass," he murmured, but with a smile on his lips. Dean's lips skittered across Cas's teasingly while he pulled the shirt up Cas's body, attempting to remove it from his body.

"Seriously, your getting smaller on me everyday," Dean joked, speaking straight into his ear like he was telling him a secret. Cas lazily leaned his neck back, Dean's advance on getting rid of his shirt earning him a laugh.

"Your getting hornier on me everyday."

This made Dean laugh the hardest, his breaths fanning over Cas's neck and sending shivers down his spine.

"That ones all on you and your sexy face," Dean replied, seductively wording out the last part of his retort. Cas shook his head and dropped it down onto Dean's chest, breathing in deeply. He sucked in the air around Dean whenever he could, as if Dean's very atmosphere contained the nectar of life. Right then, looking at his chest and seeing the tan skin, muscles rippling in the shafts of sunlight coming in through the curtains of the window, he could've very well believed that was true.

"Your intoxicating," Cas whispered.

"Stop talking to yourself in the third person, Cas."

Cas had just opened his mouth to snap something back when there was a knock on the door. Both of their heads whipped around, mouths agape with words that fell to the ground like anvils.

"Take out from Taki's," A familiar voice at the door chided, fakely cheerful. Cas moved to get to the door when Dean's arm stopped him, wrapping around his waist. His shirt was stuck under Dean's arm, half his stomach exposed. He squirmed in Dean's arms, mortified by the sounds the Taki guy must've been hearing.

"Grab the food and then come back, quick," Dean warned playfully, releasing Cas and standing off to the side. Cas huffed with frustration (not sure if it was sexual or not) and smoothed out his shirt, walking to the door. When he opened it the guy standing there, a skinny kid with greasy brown hair, held a bag carrying their cartons of food.

"Hi," he started, hoping it would work out trying to be cordial.

"This'll be 10.32," he deadpanned, swatting off any of Cas's attempts at being friendly. With a flushed face Cas handed him a twenty and waited to get back change. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching the kid's sallow face count off dollars. He looked about 18, acne rampant all over his face, eyes tired. Cas suddenly empathized for him. It wasn't fun working take out.

"How has your day been?" Cas asked, throat constricting around each word. The kid stopped counting and looked up, eyes hesitant. It looked like he was waiting for the punch line, the point where Cas jumped out and shouted, "Just kidding!"

He didn't.

"Fine," the kid muttered, starting up counting again. Cas nodded.

"Is it cold out?"

"Its November," the kid said, looking at Cas like he was dumb. Cas felt dumb.

"I realize that," he replied, cringing when the kid shook his head and retrieved pennies from a small coin purse with a zipper on it and the Taki logo. As he handed Cas the money he looked up at him through his bush of unruly hair.

"I'm sorry man, it's just been a long day. I'm not usually like this."

Cas nodded and took five dollars from his change, handing it to the kid. The kid's eyes widened slightly, a small pleased grin smoothing out his troubled features.

"For your troubles," Cas added, nodding and thanking him one last time before closing the door. Dean stood behind it, arms crossed.

"Did you just tip that douche?" he asked, looking at the door with a tempt in his eyes. Cas sighed.

"He was just having a bad day; he needed a pick me up."

Dean watched Cas venture to the kitchen table, placing the bag on it and pulling out two cartons. Fortune cookies sat at the bottom. Dean's eyes were still on him and Cas noticed once he'd turned for the first time since closing the door.

"What?"

Dean sighed and walked towards Cas, his every movement shown through the sliding of his ribs and shift of his muscles. His collarbones were a desert, two drops of rain over an expanse of the Sahara desert. Once he'd reached Cas he'd put his hands on his hips, thumbs slipping beneath the hem of his sweater and circling his skin.

"You never cease to amaze me, Cas," Dean whispered, leaning in. They kissed and then ate, Dean shirtless despite the cold weather. It was no surprise to Cas to see Dean shirtless, but he'd never get over the curl of his back and the pop of his ribcage and spine. It was like every time he saw it there was something new to be amazed by, something else to count, something new to memorize. Only last week, as Cas had attempted to loosen the knots in Dean's shoulders, that he'd found a smattering of freckles just below the middle of his spine.

They ate in quiet, listening to the soft hum of The Beatles. Hey Jude had ended before the Taki arrived.

Cas commented on the state of the food and remarked smartly, "For such a douche, he did bring us some pretty stable food."

Dean didn't look up, rolling his eyes without moving his head and eating, smiling under his nose. When they finished Cas had reached into the bag, pulling out four fortune cookies. Handing one to Dean, he pulled it out of the plastic coverlet and peeked at Dean.

"Don't think I'm weirder than before when I tell you that I live for these things."

Dean laughed.

"Cas, this doesn't surprise me in the least."

They both opened their cookies and pulled out their fortunes. Cas's eyebrows rose as he read his. Dean just laughed.

"What?" Cas asked, smiling. Dean rubbed his jaw and said in a half chuckling voice,

"It says, _You will soon encounter an angel. _I thought these things told you your future, not what's already happened."

Cas blushed and looked away, out the window, watching the sun set and cast rays of orange light towards the sky. He wanted to see that everyday for the rest of his life.

He looked at his again blushed an even deeper shade of red. Dean noticed the change in Cas's demeter and quirked his head, lips lopsided when he smiled.

"What does yours say?"

Cas shook his head and smiled nervously, sliding the mini slip over to Dean. He looked down and read in the fine black print, _Pleasure will find you in the most unexpected places. _

Dean's smile widened.

"Now thats more like a fortune," he chortled, looking up at a very dismayed Cas. Despite this though, he still smiled, lips morphing his mortified state into a look of flushed joy. Dean put a hand on Cas's and let the fortune fly away from him, into the air, onto the ground, he didn't care. Without a word he stood, hand still on Cas's, and leaned over him. Reciprocating Dean's thoughts, Cas put his opposite hand on Dean's stomach, standing up and kissing him back.

As if they'd done this dance a thousand times they moved the bedroom, hands eager, mouths even more so. Cas tasted like mangarine, lips tangy and teeth slick. Dean tasted like spicy rice, and somehow this only fueled Cas's need to be with him. To be under him, over him, next to him, anywhere with him close enough to feel his skin and hear his heartbeat.

The mattress squealed under their weight.

The pale sheets felt cold and relieving from the stress of heat on their bodies. For a while they waded in this sea of white and flashes of green and blue, until finally they came down from their high full of passion, lying next to each other. Cas played with the fine hairs making a gold path to Dean's hips, skimming touches up his abdomen a few times to rest a hand on his chest. Dean had his arm around Cas's shoulders, holding him close, curling into him like a question mark.

"I don't know about you, but pleasure was most definitely found in the most unexpected places," Dean joked, looking down at Cas. Cas scoffed and adjusted himself to look up better.

"Why is that?"

"I didn't realize how easy I could get off chewing on your ear lobe," Dean replied cheekily. Cas rubbed halfheartedly at said ear lobe and felt the mold of Dean's teeth. Believe me, he thought. You weren't the only one.

When they fell asleep later, Dean had promised before hand that he'd get some new shirts for when Winter really hit, and Cas smiled into his pillow, satisfied for a second time that night.

The only catch; Cas was getting new clothes that didn't sit on his hips and over his pants.


End file.
